#BEST SONG ON THE ALBUM I SAID WHAT I SAID

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[eicsferrari]

grammys - cs55 smau

summary: yn hard launches her relationship with carlos at the grammys

a/n: short n sweet thing i wrote during online class oops

faceclaim: sabrina carpenter

warnings: some suggestive stuff? nothing major

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

yourusername blue is this season's color

♡ liked by oliviarodrigo and others

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user7 gorgeous 😍

user19 she's at the grammys and you're not!

lilymhe blue is so your color💙

yourusername i love youuuu

user78 what is this crossover??

user2 you killed it👊🏼

user38 performance of the year <3

જ ♡ જ

sainzupdates carlos via instagram stories

♡ liked by lando and others

user1 Where is he going??

user32 people said they saw him at the grammys ???

user1 what the hell. what is he doing there?

user32 no clue

user84 when you are in a "who's the biggest carlos fan" fight but lando is your opponent

user7 what a hot man🥵

જ ♡ જ

ynupdates yn during her speech: "and lastly i want to thank my husband for being the inspiration behind many of my songs and putting up with me singing about our sex life. i love you"

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user25 HUSBAND?????? since WHEN???

user5 how can she be this beautiful? it should be illegal

user93 i need to know who was the inspiration for bed chem to thank them🙏🏼

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carlossainz55 posted a story!

caption 💪🏼💪🏼

story replies

↪user3 you're a yn fan🫶🏼 taste

↪user84 i was gonna say you two should date but she just hard launched her marriage😭

↪alex_albon we stan a successful woman ♡liked by carlossainz55

જ ♡ જ

carlossainz55 my wife went home with two grammys and one smooth operator

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lando how could you do this to me😭😭 you are breaking my heart

yourusername you were at the wedding ???

carlossainz55 and you were my best man ???

lando i'll never recover from this betrayal

user98 this is crazy we didn't even know he was dating someone less alone MARRIED????

user52 and they are gatekeeping the wedding pictures i can't believe it💔

yourusername we'll share some soon don't worry😉

georgerussell63 tell her i'm obsessed with the album! me and carmen can't get enough and are eagerly waiting for the deluxe

yourusername i love you two❤️

user39 tom and zendaya, olivia and louis, dua and callum, yn and carlos...welcome back famous hot couples

જ ♡ જ

yourusername cause yall asked for it. here's to forever and always

♡ liked by carlossainz55 and others

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જ ♡ જ

carlossainz55 posted a story!

caption it was the best day of my life

જ ♡ જ

yourusername grammys afterparty

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carlossainz55 preciosa😍 te amo

yourusername i love you more🫶🏼🫶🏼

user18 i love how she's so committed to the new williams blue theme, she's one of us <3

user23 just realized she also wore blue while performing🥺

user8 we love a supportive couple

alexandrasaintmleux that dress🔥🔥

yourusername 😘

carlossainz55 it didn't stay on too long

yourusername CARLOS

carlossainz55 don't act shocked you are the one who wrote juno

user68 yn x carlos baby when?

user40 calm down we just found out about them today

lando i can tell by the pictures that carlos was really drunk

yourusername ngl we both were

carlossainz55 my wife won TWO GRAMMYS we had to celebrate

williamsracing as a great poet once said: blue is this season's color💙

yourusername 💪🏼💪🏼

[loveesiren]

𝒮𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒

Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) x Reader

a/n: see the full request here! I changed it a little, hope you don't mind! I wrote this while kind of tipsy so it's not my favorite, sorry if the proofreading was shit/if there's any mistakes! I hope you enjoy regardless! <3

synopsis: After their fight, Y/n is surprised to hear that her best friend still needs her so desperately.

warnings: angst, language, panic attack, fluff

wc: 3.7k+

Spending time with your best friend has always been your favorite thing in the world. Jiyong was your safe space, your person—the one you could sit in comfortable silence with or talk to for hours on end without ever running out of things to say. But lately, that joy had been overshadowed by a growing concern gnawing at your chest.

BIGBANG’s tour was just around the corner, and their new album was about to drop. It was supposed to be an exciting time, and it was—you were beyond thrilled for them, for him. You had always been his biggest supporter, ready to help in any way you could. But as you sat in the dimly lit practice room, watching Jiyong push himself to his absolute limit, that excitement soured into unease.

His voice was raw from overuse, cracked and strained in a way that made you wince every time he spoke. He practiced his choreography until he was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Some nights, he worked himself to the point of collapse, and you were the one left to pick up the pieces—carrying his limp, exhausted body to bed, draping a blanket over his shaking form, whispering for him to rest even though you knew he wouldn’t listen.

Tonight was no different. The music blasted through the studio speakers, and Jiyong was lost in the rhythm, his body moving on autopilot despite the evident exhaustion written all over him. You watched as his steps faltered, his balance wavering. Then, just like that, his legs buckled, and he went crashing down.

“Jiyong!” You rushed to his side, your heart hammering as you kneeled beside him. His skin was clammy, his breathing ragged as he tried to push himself up. You grabbed the water bottle you’d brought for him and shoved it into his trembling hands.

“Drink,” you urged, your voice softer now, laced with worry. He took a few sips, barely able to keep the bottle steady. “Ji, you’re worrying me,” you admitted, eyes searching his for any sign that he’d finally listen, that he’d see what he was doing to himself.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Just have to make sure I’m ready for tour.”

You shook your head. “Ji, you’re overworking yourself. You’ve got everything perfected, okay? Give yourself time to rest.”

He exhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet despite your hand reaching out to steady him. “You don’t get it, Y/n,” he said, brushing past you, already making his way back to the center of the room.

You stood as well, crossing your arms as you watched him stubbornly reset the track. “I get that you’re tired, Ji,” you said gently, trying again. “You’re just hurting yourself at this point—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, cutting you off as the first beats of the song echoed through the studio.

Your chest tightened. “I’m just worried… I mean, you fainted and now you just want to keep going like nothing happened?”

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his fists balling at his sides. He turned to face you, eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, frustration, desperation?

“Look, Y/n,” he said, his voice cold and sharp, each word like a blade slicing through your chest. “You’re a bartender, alright? You don’t have to be that skilled at anything.”

The air in the room shifted instantly. You felt the words like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.

Jiyong must have seen the way your face fell because for a split second, his expression flickered with something softer—regret, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by a steely determination as he turned back to his practice.

“If I’m not perfect, then I’m done. Alright?” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “If you can’t handle it, then fuck off.”

Silence.

You scoffed, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips even as you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Wow,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Fuck you, Jiyong.”

You turned on your heel, grabbing your bag with shaking hands as you stormed out of the studio. You half-expected him to call after you, to chase after you and take it back. But he didn’t.

The only sound that followed you was the relentless pounding of the bass as he started the song over again.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, but it did nothing to dull the sting of his words. Your vision blurred as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. You barely registered getting into your car, hands gripping the wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

You had always known Jiyong could be stubborn, obsessive even. But this? This was something else. This was him drowning, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull him back to the surface.

And worst of all, he didn’t even want you to.

You barely made it into your apartment before collapsing onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows as sobs wracked your body. You cried until there was nothing left, until exhaustion took over, pulling you into a restless sleep.

-

How is he? You texted Seunghyun, your fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

A few minutes passed before your phone buzzed with his response.

Being a total prick.

You sighed, pressing your forehead into your palm. It had been three days since you last spoke to Jiyong. Three days since he spat those words at you, since you walked out of that practice studio, feeling like the ground had been ripped from beneath you. Three days of silence.

And now, with BIGBANG’s first show of the tour just four days away, all you could do was check in through the others. You had been messaging Seunghyun and Daesung, hoping—maybe even praying—that Jiyong would come to his senses, that he’d realize how badly he had hurt you. But instead, he was still working himself into the ground, still burning himself out, and in return, treating everyone around him like shit.

You bit your lip, debating whether to text him. Your fingers hovered over his contact, but your stomach twisted at the memory of his voice.

"You’re a bartender, alright? You don’t have to be that skilled at anything."

That one line alone still stung like hell.

Jiyong had always been intense when it came to his career, but never—not once—had he spoken to you like that. You had been his best friend for years, his shoulder to lean on when things got too heavy. And yet, the moment you expressed concern, he shoved you away like you were nothing.

Was that really how he saw you? Just some nobody?

You blinked back the fresh sting of tears. No. You refused to let yourself dwell on it anymore. Instead, you did what you always did when life became too much—you threw yourself into work.

Extra shifts, late nights, anything to keep your mind occupied. And it worked… for the most part. But when Saturday rolled around, that familiar ache settled in your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You had never missed one of Jiyong’s home shows. Not once. From his first-ever performance to the biggest sold-out stadiums, you were always there, watching from the V.I.P section, cheering him on. But this time? This time, you weren’t even sure if he wanted you there.

So, you made the decision. You picked up an extra shift at the bar. Saturday nights were always hectic, and if nothing else, at least the tips would be good.

Still, as you got ready for work, your heart ached. It felt wrong not being there.

You glanced at your phone. Zero messages from Jiyong. Nothing. He wasn’t even going to check in. Not even a half-assed apology. Your fingers tightened around your phone, debating one last time if you should reach out.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath before quickly typing out a message.

“I love you, Ji. Good luck at your show tonight.”

Short. Simple. To the point.

You sent it before you could overthink it, shoving your phone into your bag and focusing on finishing your makeup.

-

Meanwhile…

Jiyong sat in the dressing room, his body slumped against the couch. His vision swam as he stared at his phone, your message illuminating the screen. His hands trembled as he gripped the device tighter, reading and rereading your words.

"I love you, Ji."

God, his chest ached.

His head was pounding, his skin slick with sweat despite the AC blasting in the room. He was exhausted—more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. His entire body ached, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement. He had barely eaten in days, barely slept. And now, the crushing weight of knowing you weren’t here—knowing that he had done this, that he had driven you away—was suffocating him.

She should be here, he thought bitterly.

You were always there. Always in the crowd, always waiting for him backstage with a knowing smile and a bottle of water, telling him how proud you were. No matter what, you were there.

But not tonight.

And it was his fault.

“Jiyong, are you okay?”

He barely registered his stylist’s voice until he felt the cool press of her hand against his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she muttered, concern evident in her tone.

“M’fine…” he mumbled, swatting her hand away weakly.

She frowned but didn’t argue, instead focusing on finishing his hair, even though the strands were already damp from the sweat clinging to his skin. No amount of styling product would keep it in place—not with the way his body was overheating.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to push through the exhaustion. One hour until showtime. Just one more hour.

But even as he tried to rest, the shivering wouldn’t stop.

“Jiyong!”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Seunghyun and Taeyang’s voices.

“What?!” he snapped, his patience paper-thin.

The two men exchanged a glance before Taeyang took a cautious step forward. “Dude… you don’t look so good.”

Jiyong scoffed, turning onto his side to face the couch. “Fuck off, I’m fine…” His body trembled violently, contradicting his words. “Just leave me alone.”

Seunghyun frowned. “You’re sweating like hell, and you’re shaking, Ji. You seriously think you can get through a full show like this?”

Jiyong gritted his teeth, forcing himself to sit up. “I said I’m fine,” he ground out, even though the room spun around him.

The others weren’t convinced. They had seen Jiyong push himself too far before, but this? This was different. He looked pale—too pale. And the way his shoulders trembled, the way his breaths came out shallow and labored, sent a deep sense of unease through them all.

“We need to tell the manager,” Seunghyun finally said. “If he collapses on stage, it’s gonna be bad.”

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh. “I won’t collapse.”

“Bullshit,” Taeyang muttered. “You can barely sit up.”

The room fell into tense silence before Daesung finally spoke up. “I’m gonna call Y/n.”

Jiyong’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “No,” he croaked, but it was weak, barely a whisper.

“She can help,” Daesung insisted, already pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, good idea,” the others agreed.

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his fists tightening in his lap. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—to see him so weak, so broken.

But deep down, past all the pride, past all the self-inflicted suffering…

He just wanted you.

Because no matter how badly he fucked up, no matter how much he pushed you away…

You were the one person who could always put him back together.

The moment you stepped away from the bar, you broke into a sprint toward the bathroom, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your phone buzzed relentlessly in your pocket, each vibration sending a fresh wave of anxiety through you. Hands trembling, you yanked it out, eyes widening at the flood of missed calls.

Daesung. Seunghyun. Taeyang.

Something was wrong.

You barely had time to inhale before hitting Daesung’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Y/n, Jiyong needs you.” His voice was tight, urgent.

Your stomach clenched. “What’s going on? I’m at work.”

“I think it’s a panic attack or something. I don’t know—he won’t let any of us help him. Y/n, please, just come.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I don’t… I don’t think he wants me there, Daesung. We had a fight. He—he said some things…”

“He’s shutting down, Y/n. Our manager is thinking of canceling the show.” His voice cracked, desperation seeping through the line. “You’re his best friend. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

Your fingers dug into the bathroom counter. The things Jiyong had said to you still echoed in your head, sharp and unforgiving. But was that really him talking? Or was it exhaustion twisting his words, pushing him past reason?

He was your person. Your best friend. And right now, he needed you.

“I’m on my way.” You hung up, moving quickly to gather your things, but before you could slip out, your boss caught sight of you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? It’s packed out there—we need you!”

“I’m sorry, sir. Family emergency,” you stammered, throwing your apron onto the counter.

“If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.”

You met his glare, then—without a second thought—flipped him off and stormed through the crowded kitchen to the back door, heart hammering as you reached your car. You tossed your bag onto the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot, heading straight for the stadium. The city lights blurred past you, neon signs flickering against the darkening sky.

Your phone rang again. It was Daesung. “Hey, I’m almost there. Where do I go?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’re on the list,” Daesung said. “Just head backstage.”

You barely parked before jumping out of the car, navigating through the maze of security and flashing lights. The walls of the venue were lined with photos of legendary musicians, their eyes seeming to watch you as you ran past. Your pulse thrummed in your ears.

Then you heard Daesung call your name. “Y/n!” Daesung waved you over, his relief evident.

You didn’t waste a second. Following him down the hall, you turned a sharp corner and stepped into the dressing room. The air inside was thick with tension.

Jiyong sat hunched over, his elbows braced on his knees, his face pale and drawn. A paramedic stood beside him, pressing an ice pack to his head, murmuring something you couldn’t hear.

“Ji…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, your heart twisting at the sight of him. “What happened?”

His head lifted at the sound of your voice. His dark eyes met yours, wide and glassy.

Then, as if gravity had yanked him forward, he surged up from the couch and threw himself into your arms. His entire body trembled against you, his grip so tight it nearly stole your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking.

You barely had time to steady yourself before he buried his face in your shoulder. His weight pressed into you, as if you were the only thing holding him up.

“Ji…” you whispered, your hands sliding up his back, fingers threading into his hair. “I’ve got you.”

His breath came in shuddering gasps. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have said those things. I should have listened to you—I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I—” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

The others watched silently as he clung to you, their faces a mix of relief and quiet concern.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles into his back. “I forgive you.”

His shoulders shook as he let out a quiet sob, the dam finally breaking. The weight of exhaustion, pressure, and regret poured out of him all at once.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” you asked over his shoulder, still holding him.

Daesung nodded, ushering the others out. The paramedic handed you an ice pack and a bottle of water, giving you a small nod before exiting.

Jiyong let you guide him back to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. He wiped at his tear-streaked face, sniffling as you handed him the water. You pressed the ice pack gently to the back of his neck.

“Ji, tell me what happened.”

He took a slow sip, his voice hoarse. “I fucked up, Y/n.” He shook his head. “You were right. I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I—” He exhaled sharply. “I’m exhausted. And then you weren’t here, and I just… I don’t know. I lost it.”

You hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted me here after what you said to me.”

His gaze snapped up to meet yours, guilt swimming in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. Not for a second. I was out of my head, Y/n. I’ve been beating myself up over it for days, but I was too ashamed to call.”

Your heart softened. You reached for him, pulling him close and pressing a light kiss to his temple. “I know, Ji.” You stroked his hair gently. “I just worry about you.” A quiet pause. “I love you.”

His breath hitched. “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked, his voice small. His big, innocent eyes searched yours, raw and vulnerable.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a tear from his cheek. “Of course I can. Just don’t ever say some dumb shit like that again.”

A weak smile tugged at his lips. “Cross my heart.”

“Do you feel any better? Do you need to cancel the show?”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand. “You fix everything. You always do. You’re magic like that.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against them.

Shivers ran down your spine.

“Here.” You tugged him down gently. “Lay back. You have forty-five minutes until the show. Rest as much as you can.”

With a deep breath, he let himself relax against the couch, his fingers still loosely curled around yours. You ran a comforting hand through his hair, cooling him down with the ice pack.

-

“How’s he doing?” Taeyang and Seunghyun appeared in the doorway of the dressing room, their faces laced with concern but softened by the sight of Jiyong sitting upright.

“I’m fine,” Jiyong muttered, his voice still a little hoarse. He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly before flashing them a sheepish smile. “Sorry for being such a prick…”

Taeyang let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “We’re just glad you’re okay, man.”

Seunghyun smirked, glancing between the two of you. “Y/n, I think we need to keep you around more often. Seems like you’re the only one who can get through to him.”

You grinned. “Well, I just lost my job, so I’m free whenever!”

“What?” Jiyong snapped his head toward you so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. His smile faded instantly, replaced by guilt and concern.

You waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Ji. My boss was a fucking dick anyway. I was gonna quit eventually.”

But Jiyong wasn’t convinced. He looked down, his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt as his jaw clenched. You could see the thoughts racing through his mind—this was his fault. Another thing to add to the weight he carried.

“Hey.” You softened, reaching out and tilting his chin up with your fingers, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You’re more important, yeah?”

His bottom lip quivered ever so slightly before he muttered, “M’sorry…” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

Your heart clenched. Without thinking, without hesitation, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

He froze for half a second, as if his brain was struggling to process what was happening. But then, slowly, he melted into you, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss.

It was hesitant at first—uncertain, full of unspoken words—but then something shifted. His fingers tightened against your skin, his lips moving with more urgency, more need. Like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both jolt apart.

“Uh… show time in five,” Seunghyun said, eyes wide with amusement before he and Taeyang practically ran out of the room, leaving you and Jiyong in breathless silence.

As you pulled back just slightly, your noses brushed, his breath warm against your lips. His dark eyes were searching yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“W-what was that for?” he stammered, voice cracking slightly.

You bit your lip, hoping you hadn’t just overstepped everything. “Good luck,” you whispered, offering him a small smile.

Jiyong blinked at you, stunned. Then, to your surprise, his lips curled into a slow, boyish grin before he cupped your face and kissed you again. This time, it wasn’t hesitant—it was filled with silent promises, unspoken confessions, and years of built-up longing neither of you had dared to acknowledge until now.

You smiled against his lips, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Now go!” you laughed, gently shoving him toward the door. “You don’t wanna miss your first show.”

Jiyong stumbled back slightly, his grin never faltering. As he reached the doorway, he hesitated, his fingers lingering on the frame as he turned to look at you.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asked, almost shyly.

Your expression softened. “I’ll always be here, Ji.”

Something in his eyes shifted, like he was silently thanking whatever higher power had brought you into his life. Then, with a final, wide smile, he spun on his heel and took off down the hall, his energy renewed.

From backstage, you watched him take the stage, his presence electrifying the entire stadium. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could focus on was him.

And as he stood under the blinding lights, microphone in hand, he turned his head ever so slightly—just enough to catch a glimpse of you in the shadows.

A private smile ghosted across his lips.

Your stomach flipped.

This was only the beginning of a whole new chapter in your life.

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[aidenelsa]

and i won't confess that i waited but i let the lamp burn as the men masqueraded i hoped you'd return with your feet on the ground tell me all that you'd learned cause love's never lost when perspective is earned and you said you'd come and get me but you were 25 and the shelf life of those fantasies has expired lost to the lost boys chapter of your life forgive me peter, please know that i tried to hold onto the days when you were mine but the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light

[sororygilmore]

YOU SAY THAT I'M A MESS, OH JUST WAIT TILL I MAKE IT HURT 'CAUSE BABE LAST TIME I CHECKED THE TWO OF US WERE MESSIER-ER-ER

[ice-sculptures]

i got some regrets i'll bury them in floridaaaAAAAAaaaaa!!!!!

[aizenat]

Dumbass op with url saying ALL women should join the 4b movement: fuck these black bitches winning awards that should only be going to pure white queens and not those undesirable darkies.

Same dumbass op: What do you mean I’m being racist and now look at radfems poorly and think they’re all racist troglodytes? What do you mean Black women are women too and if I were a true feminist and ally to “ALL” women, I’d be happy at the BLACK WOMEN who made history at the Grammies? What do you mean my aggressive insecurity at my own inability to do anything worthwhile in the world without a caste system that automatically puts me above other races of women is showing? What do you mean you’re not joining the 4B movement after seeing my racist rant complaining about Black people winning some awards? Don’t you care about wimminzzzzzzzzz??????????

A few years ago when ppl criticized radical feminists for aligning themselves with right winged talking points, I would scoff because radical feminism is literally against everything they’re about aside from some similar takes on gender ideology (though for vastly different reasons). But now? I guess 2025 is when yall racist losers are going full mask off lol.

This is why black women would rather be around annoying pronoun asking queer-but-would-never-eat-the-box libfems than radfems any day. You think the group that is misappropriating intersectionality would ever fix their mouths today some shit like this?

The Grammys skipped over Beyonce for aoty TWICE at her best; once for a white man few ppl knew was alive let alone released an album recently (or even knew who he was lol), and the second to a white with an aggressively mediocre album with only one charting song that only went viral to it being memed who literally walked on stage confused and gesturing to Beyonce and said in her entire speech how Beyonce obviously deserved aoty over her because she knew firsthand from seeing her Black friends and peers react to Lemonade how impactful and revolutionary it was as a project. Is THAT the black woman you’re claiming was just “handed” Grammy and didn’t work her ass off for at least as long as I’m sure you’ve been alive? You think the literal HARDEST WORKING WOMAN IN MUSIC who was snubbed multipe times despite having albums that outsold every other album that year (Self Titled) and/or were such meaningful, ingenious, artistic and visionary projects that even the chick who did won saw the snub for what it was (Lemonade) was just HANDED that Grammy???? You think she only won because her husband complained about her blatantly being snubbed (RIGHT BEFORE THE CMAS WOULD SNUB HER AGAIN BY NOT NOMINATING HER FOR SHIT WHEN THAT ALBUM WAS NUMBER ONE ON THEIR CHARTS???)?

You think a woman who created not just a bs country album, but one that went to the original black roots of country, including the old gospel and bluegrass influences, while putting in some of that good ole Black soul, referencing and honoring the originators forgotten, the legends gone, and the legends still trucking on was just HANDED a Grammy? You think a woman who could have done what post Malone did in hip hop, bastardizing it and using a bunch of modern country artists to validate her place in country but instead decided to stand on her own in her personal and cultural history to the south and the music genres originating there was just HANDED a Grammy????? You think a woman who spent years working on this project, collabing with industry giants, using her popularity to bring attention to other Black country artists that the country world likes to snub and ignore because they’re racist phonies (James Aldean taking about try that in a small town when his ass is frim a city with a population of 200k ppl; I came from a town with less than 40k ppl in it, meaning I’m more small town than his fake rural wannabe cowboy ass) and to fight just to have her album be acknowledged as country was just HANDED A GRAMMY????

You really think Cowboy Carter didn’t deserve aoty when Taylor just won it last year with one the WORST albums of her career? You wanna talk about people getting handed awards, do you REALLY have to talk about white mediocrity and that aggressively mediocre and boring loser won best new artist despite being a boring performer who wouldn’t be anywhere without fans willing to sing her songs for her at her concerts? You wanna talk about Taylor’s entire career being about mediocrity and how that is literally why every white woman across the world is so eerily obsessed with her? Because you see YOUR MEDIOCRE SELF IN HER?

Beyoncé is proof positive that we have to be twice as good to get half as far. We have to be five times as good to be seen as the same level as your mediocre “best.” And if we beating your ass? Best believe it’s because we were TEN TIMES BETTER THAN YOUR LAZY ASSES.

Beyoncé winning was a long time coming, and after they snubbed her for Lemonade, any time she won was going to feel like a consolation prize. Just like when Leo finally got his best actor Oscar for a mid movie after being snubbed (for some reason) for some of his BEST work. Sometimes the industry is stupid. Half the people who voted for aoty last year probably voted for Taylor because she was the only one they recognized and their kids were probably singing some of her songs so they assumed it was a good album (it really wasn’t lol). Sometimes they vote for someone else to win even though the clear winner is obvious. But considering the LONG history of Black artists being snubbed at the Grammys, the fact that op is melting down over ONE YEAR where Black excellence won some awards that usually goes to white mediocrity shows what a raging racist she is.

This is literally “I don’t think Black people can be more talented than white people and so any Black person who wins only did so because of white guilt and not by any hard work or talent on their end.” It’s giving “there’s no way that Black person who got the job over me is a more qualified/better; must have been a DEI/affirmative action hire.”

Oh, but funny thing BECKY. The group of ppl who always benefited the LEAST from affirmative action and DEI were Black people. Meanwhile, the people who benefited the MOST from affirmative action and DEI were white women. Imagine that. So even with the benefits of DEI and affirmative action, as well as general white privilege, y’all still couldn’t beat our black asses! That’s really what you’re mad about: the fact that your mediocrity can no longer compete with our excellence. And that’s not our issue; that’s a skill issue for YALL. And y’all need to worry about trying to fix that instead of becoming raging fascists, bigots, and racists.

Radfems are never beating the racism charge with takes like these. 

The grammys have proven that they only give certain people awards to avoid being called racist.

Doesn't matter if you're an abuser, Doesn't matter if your album was actually good or not, Doesn't even matter if you can sing or not and your lyrics are nonsensical asf!

Just be black and you'll get handed ALL the Grammys

[two-dolla-bills]

I like you, here's my interpretation of the mechanisms' motif!

[wouldntbehim]

mix: firstprince (taylor's version)

[illeniram]

You may have all the intelligence you want, but you will never know everything.

[lokh]

Im gonna need your like, whole musical rec list, bc literally every song you have posted has not flopped once, give me your faves i need to eat them

OUGHHH YOUVE UNLOCKED THE BEAST ARGSHHFHJDF....

in the interest of making this both easily accessible but not stretching the dashboard, im embedding bandcamp links when i can, otherwise linking to youtube when unavailable

in no particular order, inclusion based mostly on what im still actively into LMAO but also just things you should give a go at least once:

list of artist recommendations

zeal and ardor: described as a mix of african-american spirituals and black metal. try devil is fine, you aint coming back, wake of a nation or church burns

bloodywood: indian folk metal, literally nobody is doing it like them. recently featured in monkey man (2024), try chakh le, yaad or dana dan

stromae: if youve never heard any of his songs WHAT ARE YOU DOING..... incredible lyricist, described as a blend of hip hop/electronic. papaoutai made the rounds on tumblr a while back, but you should also try santé and l'enfer

alamat: pinoy pop. a youtube commenter described them as sounding like 2nd gen kpop which probably also explains why i took a shine to them LMAO, notable for the amount of filipino culture on display and the diversity thereof (singing in different languages, themes). first heard them thru kasmala either here or on twitter lmao, try aswang or maharani

andy bull: alt-pop. a lot of poppy and upbeat songs with a melancholic undertone imo. an australian artist, try it's all connected or keep on running

cosmo sheldrake: electronic, wikipedia also lists him as folktronica and baroque pop. you may have heard the song come along on an apple ad - hes known for sampling sounds from nature. pliocene for example features sounds from endangered ecosystems.

if you like cosmo sheldrake, you might like hidden orchestra (electronica, ambient). also making use of field recordings, i really love the archipelago mixtape but its a hard sell at about an hour lmao. if you like the following song then i implore you to give it a go

son lux: experimental, you may have heard from them in the entire soundtrack for everything everywhere all at once (!!!!!). try dangerous, dream state (brighter night) or live another life.

ammar 808: electronic/world fusion, also behind bargou 08 (folk rock you should also listen to). i just cant get ain essouda out of my head, but i also love geeta duniki

miyavi: j-rock, used to be a visual kei artist. these days he might be known more for anime openings like flashback (kokkoku) or other side (id:invaded), or for work like snakes in arcane (or actually inspiring and voicing a character in it), but ive always been partial to his early work like sukkyanen myv or ashita, genki ni naare

songs/albums

'threads' album by now, now (indie rock).

'dream to make believe' or 'what to do when you are dead' by armor for sleep (rock, emo). here's the truth about heaven from the latter album

i already posted about it but denzel curry's 13lood 1n + 13lood out mixx (rap, trap) is extremely good

the guilty gear soundtracks and im so serious im not fucking joking. different kinds of rock and metal and all sorts of influences put in, a genuine labor of love. xrd and earlier games are mainly instrumental with some vocal tracks (try give me a break or big blast sonic), while strive pretty much always includes vocals (of course i need to rec rock parade, but also try requiem. its genuinely hard for me to pick and choose lmao)

not an album and not an artist

coke studio pakistan and coke studio bangla knocking it out of the fucking park, im particularly a fan of harkalay and kotha koiyo na. you could try the other coke studios too (tamil, india, etc)

triple j like a version is when the radio station triple j brings in artists and has them do a cover of a song (artists choice). i liked denzel curry's cover of bulls on parade and flume's shooting stars (video for this one is incredible, man had a vision you just have to stick it out), but you get a lot of interesting interpretations like the wombats' running up that hill, gordi's in the end or, infamously. the wiggles' elephant

ive DEFINITELY missed out some, but thats what my music tag is for LMAO i hope someone discovers something they like here!!!!

[kindahoping4forever]

And everyone gasped

(no one was surprised, not even a little)

[smtown-tourist]

As a certified Shawol, I want to say…

Sorry not sorry that SHINee’s whole discography SLAPS and there’s not a single bad song in their entire repertoire

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[yellowloid]

hey! i was sort of reading “something to rely on” lyrics, and i remembered that you analyse some of miles, monkeys and tlsp songs. so, i just wanted to ask what are your thoughts on this song, cause i particularly think it’s about alex or some of it. anyway, other songs from cdg can be fully about alex, but barely no one talks about this one, so i thought it’d be great to discuss about it.

there’s also “adios tara tara” that i also think it’s about alex, as other songs from change the show, but that’s for another time! i also love your blog, your fanfics and song analysis, they’re always really good! 🫶

sooo first of all sorry for being this late lmao this is kinda embarrassing because this ask was sent MONTHS ago maybe almost a year ago it was so long ago i literally don't remember. i'm only just answering now BUT better late than never i guess skgshdfh

(as usual don't take this too seriously lmao this is just a silly theory, i'm in no way implying it's the truth. it's just delusion o'clock)

now, if you follow me you know what i think of coup de grace as an album - and that is, the fact that it's soooo about alex it's crazy like. bro was so angry and in love and heartbroken????? and he wrote a literal masterpiece of an album????? that's iconic if you ask me

so to no one's surprise, let's follow the usual theory - them having some sort of falling out after eycte because of miles getting serious and alex consequently chickening out, which led to Peak Gay Drama Year, also known as 2018, when they both release albums that - more or less explicitly - contain images that could easily be interpreted as references to each other. something to rely on is no exception:

"crescent moon, left in my drive / all too soon, you made your point"

the reference to the moon creates a pattern, since the semantic field of astral entities is also present in songs such as killing the joke, with "interstellar, dressed in leather, drinking bitter boy" - which as we all know is one of miles' most direct lines when it comes to referencing alex, and it can easily be linked to am's own space-themed album, which miles definitely got to listen before its official release date.

opening the song with a reference to the moon could be a way of @ a certain someone, letting him know that yes, this song *is* in fact about him, if he didn't get the other billion hints in the whole album. (however, for the sake of keeping it vague, i won't be referring to him directly but rather to a ~mysterious person~) (i'm sure you get my point tho *wink wink*) [gunshots]

mentioning the moon could also be a way of referencing the ever-present theme of nighttime encounters in the entirety of mk/am/tlsp's discography: sometimes those encounters are described as fun, sometimes they mean trouble; sometimes, they leave the people involved with a sense of guilt and/or shame, on which we'll come back later and which often leads to bad decisions ("all too soon, you made your point"). in this particular case, the first image that comes to my mind is someone leaving sneakily after a (series of) one-night stands, with the song obviously being from the pov of the person being left, who also gives us a reason why they think the other person left:

"keeping off the radar, how does that make you feel? / keeping it clean, through all the things you wanted me to be / out of touch, with all the rumors i keep hearing of you / keeping off the radar, how does that make you feel?"

this person doesn't seem to want other people to know about their affair, and that's why they keep it secret; it seems that they want miles to be something he's not, or something he can't be - or maybe they ask all these things of themselves, which would maybe make it easier for them to accept the relationship going public. this person wants to keep it neat and clean, picture-perfect and fitting to everything everyone expects from them; but as much as they try to stay lowkey and not attract attention, the narrator informs us that no matter how much this person tries to hide, there's still rumors going around about them, as an individual as well as their relationship(s) with other people, most likely with the narrator too.

"all aboard the guilt train / last call before we leave / last call before we learn to love / the last call before we leave"

the line referring to guilt is insanely queer-coded and i will die on this hill because it just SCREAMS internalised homophobia, with which the other person might be struggling. it wouldn't make sense otherwise - because what would that person feel guilty about, if it were a straight-passing relationship? unless it was a cheating situation, of course... but it could be a cheating situation AND also a queer one, with this person being in another (het) relationship while having a same-sex lover (the narrator), which would give that line a double explanation. also every time i listen to this song i just can't help but think about 'all aboard the kane train' WHAT WHO SAID THAT

however, the narrator tells us that this is the "last call before we leave" - meaning, he's giving this person an ultimatum to make up their mind and decide if they want to be with him for real or not, since the latter possibility would result in him leaving - not necessarily for good, but... just trying to get over that person once and for all. at the same time, though, it's also the "last call before we learn to love" - which is incredibly soft imo, because it's him still putting trust and hope into that person and a positive decision on their part. he believes they will eventually choose to be with him, he hopes for it and trusts the other person to make the right decision, which would lead to them being together and learning how to love each other without limits nor second-guesses. the repetition of the leaving line could also be seen as a way for him to give it a new meaning compared to the first one: if they ended up together, they could leave that world based on nasty rumors and appearances, ignoring them all to just be happy together. because, after all, miles declares it openly:

"you're all that i wanted / all that i need / you're all that i wanted / you're all that i need"

i mean. does this even need an explanation. bro is down BAD

"something to rely on / something to get high on / i don't want to beg or steal, i don't want to borrow hearts / i just want to make it real / something to rely on / the making of a mystery, wishing on a falling star / i don't want to let this sadness rule my heart / your actions from the start / in spite of me insightfully inviting me to fall apart"

i left the chorus last because imo it captures perfectly the whole vibe of the song and what i think is miles' outlook on life in general: the narrator wants something stable and secure, an established relationship with the other person; he doesn't want to have to beg and argue and make it more complicated than it probably already is, he doesn't want to be a pastime or just some lover. he wants something thrilling and intense, almost addictive - but most importantly, he wants something real. this complicated situation with the other person is making them both suffer, and the other person's behaviour doesn't make it any easier; but in spite of everything, and in spite of his sense of self-preservation, he still finds himself unable and unwilling to resist them, to let them go for good. and no matter how self-destructive this might be, he doesn't want to be ruled by negative emotions; he's already fallen for them, too deep to even consider letting them go. he just keeps falling, and yeah, the outcome of their situationship might still be a mystery, but he chooses to be hopeful - "wishing on a falling star", bringing the song to a circular end by mentioning other astral entities that inevitably remind us of the "crescent moon" that opens the song. which also evokes the idea of circularity that is typical of situationships like the one described here, where the moment he seems to have made up his mind (or maybe the other person finally did?) it's like rinse and repeat, and once again they're back to square one.

[penguin-in-a-box]

I'm not sure why everyone says Renegade is about Joe and uses this as ammunition towards Taylor to prove she's insensitive towards him when it's... So clearly a result of the conversation she and Aaron Dessner have in the Peace section of the Long Pond Sessions about anxiety and Aaron's own insecurities about how a partner may interpret his struggle with anxiety?

Like maybe it's not that deep y'all. Maybe it's based off that experience of fearing how a partner would react to their own mental health issues. Maybe it's harsh because it's what they're hearing in their heads.

I have never seen anyone on tumblr ever consider that take despite?? It feeling kinda obvious??

If there's some lore I'm unaware of by all means lay it on me.